Vampire Wars: The Vision
by Carly McE
Summary: I decided to work on both stories, just to keep the boredom flowing! P.S. Please reveiw! PLEAAAASE *begs on knees*!
1. Epilouge

What do you call them?Physic Visions? Memories?

Either way, I don't think I can take this anymore.


	2. Chapter 1

NOTE

Tank you, my Bffs, for reading this chapter before hand, and helping me. Tank you to all of the random readers.  
Tank you, everyone!MWAH!

Kneecaps, Hollister boys, and *nudge nudge* possums?

P.S. **Very important, so you don't get confused.  
**This is Emma's POV, ok? Ok.  
Fo shizzle!

The battle raged around the field, blood spilling everywhere. Snarling echoed up into the sky, which was a dark gray. Surrounded by trees, the field was about a mile wide in every direction. The most shocking revelation was that these were all humans. Or they looked like humans, anyway. All of them had human features, but were battling like animals. Yes, some were on all four, but most of them were just savage. The two sides were barely unlike each other. As bodies fell, the clearing seemed to darken. Heads turned when they heard snarls that were actual feral snarls that couldn't possibly be human sounded.

There, at the base of the clearing, were two tigers. Both of which were covered in metal armor. Behind them, the person they were guarding, and who basically had them on leashes, was emerging from the trees. He had a horrible air about him, though you couldn't see his face. He was covered in a hood, and held a large sword, that looked both deadly and graceful. His mouth, which was the only visible part of his face you could see, was smiling wryly, as if he found the battle before him amusing, then lifted up his sword and charged into battle, screaming an unidentified word that sounded like something from another language.

I woke up, sweat matting my face and my streaked hair. I was panting, as if I had just …never mind.

What _was_ that? _Holy shit_. That was one of the worst dreams yet. I needed counseling.

I got up, shaking, looking around. Can I even begin to explain my room? The last girl who lived here was goth, and the walls were black. I had made it a point to decorate as much lime green and light green as possible. It actually looks kind of cool, excluding the Incredible Hulk posters I hadn't taken down yet (huge mistake). I mostly had frog crap decorated around the room, since that's about the only green animal on the earth besides the lizard, and they don't make cute beanie babies of lizards.

I heard one of my baby brothers screaming downstairs, and turned toward the bathroom. I should wait until it was over. I looked in the mirror and gasped. It was like I hadn't slept at all. I had bags under my eyes, and my hair…was practically standing up it was so bad. My mouth opened into a wail of despair. It sounded more like a kitten that was constipated, but whatever. I looked (horrified) at my hair brush, and thought that maybe it would be better to deal with the evil twin hag bi-I mean, brothers. I sighed, and went downstairs.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!" one of them (Mick, I think.) screamed as the other pulled back his hair, making his head yank back.

"Dick!!!!!!Owwwww!!!!!!!!!" he screamed, reaching back and punching the older brother ("older" meaning by two minutes) as hard as he could in the face.

Yes, my two brothers are named Mick and Dick. Sometimes I call them Mickey's Dick (even though Mickey Mouse rocks) and Mick Mick Dick Dick or the Dick returns. When my mother decided to name one of the brothers Dick after she had them, I thought that was pretty mean. Now I see that is an extremely fitting name for him, and that she chose wisely. At the moment they are wrestling. Only now, instead of doing it by the table, they were on top of it. Guess what my parents did? Ignored it. Maybe counseling _would_ help me. And my family.

When the two evil twin hag-ahem, brothers- saw me, they gaped and stopped fighting.

I looked back at them, mirroring their expressions. They decided I wasn't worth their time, and went on as if I weren't even there. I turn to the table and say to my ever patient and loving mother,

"How do you put up with this? If I was their mom, I would have chucked them out of here already." Both the boys looked at me with their green eyes and freckled faces. It wasn't fair! Everyone –I'm not kidding here, even my great grandparents- have freakishly bright green eyes. I have a very unusual shade of clear turquoise. Other than that, though, I look pretty much the same as my mom. She has natural brown streaks in her dirty blonde hair, and has a really pretty angular face. Best part-no butt-chin! (Butt-chins are a disgusting-not the small ones, but the really big- vertical line between the chin.)

"Well, I don't really know, Emma. I'm starting to think I should." She said, giving the two a pointed look. They froze, and slowly got off the table. Dad was reading his newspaper at the head of the table, sipping coffee that smelled like crap. I turned to him and put my hand between his eyes and the newspaper (two inches). When he didn't even look up, I sighed and headed for the fridge. I heard my two brothers fighting over the milk, and my mom was shaking an almost empty box of cereal. And my dog, Sunny, shoes that very moment to run in, barking and whining. Sunny is a golden retriever. She jumps up on anything she can find. She ran over to me and licked my hand, her big eys looking up at me and saying, "Hey."

"Sunny, you goof, I was gonna eat with that hand! Yuck." I smiled and bent down, and her tail wagging sped up and she licked my face. My only real friend. I petted her, then got back up and shoved an eggo into the toaster. I waited for 30 seconds, then took it out.

"I'm going." I said, grabbing my book and my backpack.

"Ok. Bye!" my mom called, but I didn't feel like answering.


	3. Chapter 2

My school is pretty low class. Graffiti. Grimy. No place _without _germs. Doesn't that sound like a place you'd want to spend 6 hours a day, 5 whole fucking days a week at? Me, too. I just love the smell of drunken, smoking, hobos outside my school.

"Emma!" I saw heard his voice before I saw his face. This guy was insane. I couldn't even have five minutes to myself?

"Hi, Eugene. What's up?" I said grimly. This guy was like gum under your shoe. You _so_ wanted to get rid of him, but even if you grind your designer flip flops against the pavement so hard that they get hot from friction, that stupid, geeky, ugly piece of gum is stuck there, mocking you. Buck teeth and all.

"We have a pop math quiz today, 3rd period."

"Just what I wanted to hear. Anything else?" I grabbed hoisted my backpack to my other shoulder and started to shift through it, looking for my history book, which we needed today. Shit.

"Well, Mr. Moore is home sick because of swine flu."

"Beautiful."

"And we have a new friend making an addition to our small family."

"What? You mean Mrs. Grey got another rabid hamster?" I asked, uninterested.

"No, silly! We have a new kid. Well, a couple of new kids, actually." His nasal laugh echoed off of the bare school basketball courts.

"Oh." I got out my iPod, and started listening to Seether, Fake It. It blasted so loud that our nasty principle probably heard it.

"Well, this is going to be fun! Maybe they'll be friendly!" he jumped up and down.

_To you?_ I thought, and looked at him like he was crazy.

"Yeah. New friends." I said, and walked into my classroom without saying goodbye. My iPod was blasting out my ears. I turned it down, and stuffed it into my backpack, but left the headphones in my ears. I nodded my head to the beat as I got out my books.

The fake sounding bell rang, and everyone ran to their seats. I was surprised to see a few headphones around the room. The teacher started writing on the board, not even bothering to ask us to put away our "electronic devices".

"All right, class, get out your books and turn to page 93, as we discussed you would study this chapter yesterday, I want you to actually read it and fill out the awnsers of the questions on the sheet that I'll be passing out." I looked around the room, already bored.

One of the jocks that all the girls giggled about (even though he was as smart as a log, they thought he was cute.) raised his hand.

"Yes, Jack?" Mr. Alexander asked , looking pointedly at Jock Jack.

"Um, are they multiple questions?" he asked, scratching his head.

Half the class started laughing. I rolled my eyes, and the teacher just stood there.

"I am not even going to answer that question. You are in High school not _Pre_school."

Alexander continued to pass out papers. It was raining today, making the windows looking a dark gray. The clear water made tear patterns, choosing specific places to run down the smooth glass.

"Miss Forde!" Someone snapped me out of my trance. I looked up, at the annoyed and very bored expression of my teacher, and lost it. _I am _so_ going to be bitchy to him, because he deserves it right now_ , some little part in the back of my brain promted, and the rest of my body obeyed.

"Yeeees, Mr. Alexander?" I said in the same tone he had used.

"Two inquires. One: Where is your textbook? And, two: why aren't you paying attention?" he asked, and the class exploded into giggles. Why? It wasn't funny.

I stood up immediately, with my hand to my forehead in a salute.

"Sir!" I screamed

"Your answers are: I seemed to have involuntarily lost my textbook for a short period of time! And: I was staring out the window, sir! Because it is more exciting than just sitting there waiting for you to finish your rounds, sir!"

Detention is a very rare and wonderful experience for me. Ah, the sights. The smells. Mrs. Knickerbockle picking her nose and rubbing it off on her jelly sandwich. Jerry Splindley farting with consistency two rows in front of me. Amy Winehert and Josie Black were both giggling about something cheerleader related. I shrugged my backpack into my usual seat and sat down, doodling. No one ever really does their work in detention, do they? I outlined a bomb exploding, right near a stick figure i named Terri. after Terri Springfeild, my high school bitch face of the year. The yearbook is practically one big picture of her. Everyone hates her, but everyone would give anything to _be_ her.  
I just think she's a bitch, period.

I, and the rest of the "troublemakers" look up when the door swings open violently.

The principle walked in, with her nose so high it was practically blocking the sun, and two boys about my age followed her in. The first one to enter the room was tall and well-built, but was wearing scary-goth-kid clothing, so wasn't exactly a warm-looking person. He had black hair and white blue eyes, and was grinning so hugely that you'd think that he'd judt won the lotto. The second one wasn't as tall, but he was still just above my height- and I was just above the average height. He was so beautiful, my heart sped up just looking at him. He had shaggy brown hair that framed his face and fanned out. He had light hazel eyes-so light they were almost yellow- that scanned over every inch of the room, yet still remained on the other guy.

"I am very dissapointed in you both. Your first day and you all already have first period detention. Let this be a lesson to you all,"-she then looked around the room-"We all have new starts. But it is our decision how to use them. You two, hoever, just blew it." She directed them to some seats just by mine, and my heart sped up. I looked down quickly.

"But I didn't punch him first! I-" the smaller jumped up, but she interrupted him.

"Ah! The 3rd grade excuse! Well, Mr. Hastings, you didn't punch him first, but you definetly punched him back." A fistfight? Those happened outside of her office every day. She never gave a shit. I looked up at her face, and noticed a little more malice than there needed to be there.

She left, huffing. Door status: slammed. It blew back my hair it was so strong.

Mrs. Knickerbockle stood up and beckoned them forward, saying, "Boys." they both stood up, looking intimidated. I mean, she was huge. Even the flies ran. I mean, flied. She kept motioning to them until they were in front of the room, facing the class.

"Everybody, here are some new additions to our school. Spencer and Wyatt." she gestured to them, first adressing the goth guy, then the shorty. They both seemed very embarrassed.

"You two can take your seats now." she said, pushing them like 5 year olds. They sat a couple of seats over, and started arguing about the fight that had obviously happened earlier. They didn't look like they'd been in a fisfight, though. Oh, well. I went back to doodling, keeping Wyatt in my line of vision.

Suddenly, the school year ahead didn't look so bad after all.


End file.
